1 Poetry

Two little boys were playing by a river’s edge.
One picked up a small stone and raised his hand
to throw it in the water,
but it was muddy and slipped out;
it hit the other boy on the forehead.
The struck boy let out a surprised yelp,
then he picked up a larger stone
and motioned as...

Over the sun-driven wind,
resounded a voice at noon,
“It is art! Art, I say! Look, look!
I made it so!”
as she stood with a broken lantern
at the center of Web-bound America.
“Art is what I make it!” reverberated
the artist… and soon a gathering of
critics and surf-editors...

I fondled Love in a trash dumpster
behind a computer refurbishing shop
called “Reborn Motherboards,”
“by Rose.”
Fondled it long and cold, like a million
tortured words inside
a dead Kindle being
cattle prodded by clichés.
We rolled around
on plastic metal
and stained...